The BeST Challenge Collection
by Zarathustra46
Summary: This is a collection of one-shot challenge fics we wrote as part of FictionAlley's 2007 Monthly Challenge series. We offer these up for your enjoyment.
1. Chapter 1

This story was written in response to the Fiction Alley 2007 fan-fiction challenge series - March Challenge. It was written by a team of writers called BeST; also known for their Betaing prowess. The team is made up of two writers and two grammarians – one American, the other British and PI accredited, who lives in Germany. The Authors are Zarathustra from America and Les Dowich from Australia. We ask that you read and enjoy!

**The Switch-Up**

**Prompt:** **Gideon Prewett gave Gregory's Unctuous Unction to Professor Grubbly-Plank**

**Rating: PG**

Gideon Prewett opened his eyes to bright sunlight coming in through the cracks between the deep-red velvet curtains hanging around his four-poster, and smiled. Today was the start of his third year at Hogwarts! He yawned and stretched, then rolled quickly out of bed to start the day.

Downstairs in the common room he ran into his older brother Fabian, a wiry red-headed fourth-year; together, they tumbled out of the Fat Lady's portrait-hole and headed down to breakfast.

"What do you have for first period, little bro?" Fabian asked, as they loaded their plates.

Gideon looked at his timetable that he had just received from his new Head of House, Professor McGonagall. "Ahhh, Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Grubbly-Plank – she's that new one introduced last night at the feast." Gideon smiled, as he remembered the young woman who had stood at the introduction. Very pretty.

"Good luck!" mumbled his brother. Fabian was not fond of magical creatures and had chosen Muggle Studies instead.

Gideon trudged down to the caretaker's cottage where the CoMC class was being held. This was a mixed-house class, so there was a bit of pushing and shoving among the Gryffindors and Slytherins as they gathered around a table. Everyone fell silent when Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared and began the class on Bowtruckles.

Gideon just stared. His head had soared when she had walked over to the table. When she started checking on the pairs of students doing their sketches, he thought he would pass out from his heart beating so fast as she bent over his shoulder. He just knew it; he was in love!

When the class was over, he delayed as much as possible. Every week for a month, he stayed behind to help, just to be close to her. She simply had to see what a good catch he was – wasn't he taller than her already, with muscles built up from a year as a beater? He tried talking to her, but for some reason he always stumbled over his tongue and the words never came out right.

o00o

Fabian Prewett glanced at the gargoyle and sighed. During his four years at Hogwarts, Mister Prewett had been a regular visitor to the Headmaster's office. Could he help it if he was interested in _everything_? How could he know that Mega-morphing Solution became volatile if the fumes were kept enclosed? The Slytherin Quidditch team had certainly jumped when their lockers exploded. He was consoling himself with remembered hilarity when angry voices sounded from behind the gargoyle. The wiry boy faded back behind a suit of armour and peered out curiously.

A tall, well-dressed man swept past his hiding place, then turned to snarl at the Headmaster who was poised on the bottom step. "You will sincerely regret refusing my offer, I promise you!"

"Now, Tom…"

"Enough!" The man turned to stride away, angrily.

Fabian held his breath as the visitor charged past the armour's niche, his colour high, until he almost ran over his cousin Vincent Goyle, lumbering in the other direction. Knowing Goyle, Fabian expected him to bull through, but the bulky seventh-year stopped dead and stammered; then, much to Fabian's shock, dropped to one knee and bowed his head with a strangled "My Lord, forgive me". The bump of curiosity that was often Fabian's downfall began to sting and prod at him insistently. Who the hell was that and what had he to do with Goyle? Was he, as the rumours flying about the wizarding world hinted, the new Grindelwald?

A million questions, answers, schemes and scenarios flashed through Prewett's fertile mind as he stood frozen in the alcove, each discarded until he realised this was the perfect opportunity to test out the potion he had been toying with. If he wanted information, then Gregory's Unctuous Unction held the key. He was really pleased to have a reason to try it.

"Mr Prewett." The Headmaster's voice cut through his ecstatic daydreams and reality bit.

o00o

For Gideon, his feelings came to a head when the Quidditch coach, Madam Hooch, came over to the hut after class. Gideon could tell that there was something going on between these two women.

That evening, after a detention with Slughorn for exploding his Shrinking Solution, Gideon slammed his way into the Gryffindor common room, throwing his bag down on the floor and himself onto the couch next to Fabian.

"Bad day?" asked Fabian, brooding over what he had seen at the Headmaster's office.

"You have no idea." He looked over at his brother. "Hey, you're the potions king – can you make a love potion?"

"Yeah, why?" he said, a bit startled.

"Let me tell you about… _HER!_"

o00o

The Room of Requirement was brilliant, the perfect hide-away for Fabian. True, Sluggie was good, but he did not encourage them to experiment. Here in the hidden room, Fabian could make what he liked, including Gregory's Unctuous Unction. He bought a box of Honeydukes Strawberry Crèmes and carefully added the potion. Goyle's sweet tooth was legendary; if Goyle saw him carrying the box he would be unable to resist - then he would be Fabian's instant best friend. It was foolproof!

Beside his box of chocolates was a second box belonging to Gideon who had developed a serious crush on someone, although he wouldn't say who. In a fit of generosity, Fabian had agreed to make a love potion for the squirt and had told him to get some Crème centres, too. Oh well, Gideon's doctored chocolates were on the left, so all was well and good. Fabian closed the door behind him and rubbed his hands together. Roll on, tomorrow!

o00o

Gideon entered the Room of Requirement and headed for Fabian's workbench. "Now where did he say… Oh, yeah, on the left…" He stared at the two boxes and shrugging, grabbed the one closest to him – they looked the same.

After class, he waited to escort the professor back up to the castle for lunch, and even led her to her seat at the head table.

"Professor, I thought you might like these chocolates; they're from Honeydukes."

"Why, thank you, Mr Prewett. I'm sure they are lovely – I'll save them for later, shall I?" She set the box next to her place setting, and Gideon went back to his table, feeling as if he was walking on air.

o00o

Fabian watched Gideon approach Grubbly-Plank and hand her the chocolates - the idiot had a crush on a teacher! Fabian's box was hidden under a spell that only revealed it to Goyle. He knew the Slytherin had seen them when he almost burned a hole in the box with his stare. So predictable!

Fabian let the rest of Gryffindor house go ahead of him before leaving the Great Hall. As planned, Goyle was waiting for him, a couple of cronies at his back.

"What you got, little cousin?" Goyle rumbled as Monkhouse grabbed his arms from behind. Wrapping a meaty arm around Fabian's neck, Goyle plucked the box from his grasp with the other. "Honeydukes? You shouldn't have!" He laughed, opening the chocolates with one hand. Fabian watched, triumphantly, as three of the sweets were crammed into Goyle's gaping maw.

A triple dose of potion would have knocked anyone else over.

Goyle stiffened, almost choking his cousin, then let out a gasp of horror. "My God! Fabian, love! Have I hurt you? Speak to me, _please_, honey!"

Monkhouse let go in shock, and Fabian staggered as meaty arms clasped him to a broad, surprisingly muscular chest. Fabian let out a strangled squawk of horror and slithered free, leaving his robe behind as he fled for his life, a lovesick, determined Goyle hard on his heels.

"Gideon, I will _kill_ you!" Fabian vowed as he bolted.

o00o

Wilhemina sighed as she set the box of chocolates down on the table and went to answer the knock at her door.

"Rolly! C'mon in," she said as she ushered Hooch into her cottage. Rolanda eyed the chocolates on the table.

"Chocolates?"

Wilhemina waved her hand at them. "Help yourself, they're from Mr Prewett – not fond of them myself."

Rolanda plucked out a couple and popped them in her mouth. "I really came to discuss the Crups," she said as she chewed. She looked over at Wilhemina. "You know, Willy, I was just realising how much we have in common – this business of raising Crups is just the best thing for the two of us to do together, don't you think so?"

Wilhemina looked startled for a moment, then smiled. If she was truthful with herself, she had a definite crush on the older woman and welcomed the chance to go into business with her. It looked like Rolly felt the same way. This day was turning out better than she could have dared imagine!


	2. Chapter 2

Written for the March 2007 FictionAlley challenge, this is one of two that Zarathustra wrote alone for these challenges.

**The Greatest Adventure**

**Prompt: Perenelle Flamel gave Pumpkin Juice to Hedwig.**

**Rating: G**

Dumbledore rushed into the chamber housing the Mirror of Erised after dousing the flames in the doorway, in time to see Harry's body fall, Quirrell turn to ash and Voldemort's vaporous form flee the scene. He hurried over to Harry to check if the dear boy was still alive. Thank Merlin, there was a pulse and he was still breathing, even if he didn't respond to his name being called.

As he picked Harry up, he could feel the stone still in the boy's pocket pressing sharply against his hand. He smiled to himself through his tears as he hurried through the chambers to the secret Dungeons exit. The boy _had_ done it correctly.

"Poppy, come quickly, please!" he called out as he entered the hospital wing and laid Harry down on the nearest bed. He saw Miss Granger fussing over the youngest Weasley nearby and turn towards him as he called out, crying Harry's name. As she started to move forward he shook his head at her and with a flick of his wand, moved a set of screens around Harry's bed, effectively cutting him off from prying eyes. Before Poppy reached the bed, however, he pulled the stone from Harry's pocket and quickly hid it in the folds of his robes.

"Take care of him, Poppy," he said as she hurried over, wand out and diagnostic spells flying. "I fear he's been grievously injured by Voldemort. I must go now, but I will be back soon." He ignored her wince at the name, and brushing some hair away from Harry's scar, he patted the youngster on the head and strode out of the infirmary smiling at the fussing noises he heard the Mediwitch make behind him.

He knocked on the door, smiling a bit to himself at the decidedly Slytherin carvings that adorned the surface of the oak door and frame. A moment later it opened, revealing a sallow-faced, lanky man with curtains of dark hair hanging forward. He was dressed in black silk pyjamas and a matching velvet dressing gown, around which he was hastily tying the belt.

"Headmaster, how may I help you?" came the oily voice of the room's occupant.

"Severus, I need your assistance. May I come in?" He moved past the Potions master as the teacher opened the door further to admit his superior. Dumbledore moved to sit by the fire, and Snape, with a small moue of annoyance, sat across from him in his second-best chair, pulling his dressing gown tighter around him.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but we seem to have a small problem," the headmaster began. "Voldemort was possessing Professor Quirrell all this time and made an attempt for the stone tonight. Harry confronted Voldemort for a second time and won; Quirrell is dead." He ignored the scoffing noise from the other chair. "However, there is really nowhere else to hide the stone. We need to destroy it; it is too dangerous to leave intact - Tom will just try again." He watched the play of emotions move quickly across his friend's face as he tackled with the greed of wanting the stone for himself and the knowledge that Dumbledore was correct in needing it destroyed.

Snape finally sighed in resignation. "How shall we do this?"

Dumbledore smiled in satisfaction. "Thank you, my boy, thank you. This is what we need to do..."

The two wizards stared down at the small pile of grey ash; all that remained of the Philosopher's Stone. It had taken quite a bit of energy on both of their parts to destroy it, but they had succeeded. Dumbledore gave a slight shudder and, with a quick wand movement, _Evanesco-_ed the now useless dust. He took a seat next to the table and ran his hand over his face in weariness. After a few moments, he pushed himself up with a great sigh and headed for the door.

"Thank you, Severus. I need to send a message to Nicolas now, and let him know what has happened. This day has been too long already, and there is much yet to be done." He opened the door as Snape waved a weary hand at him to shoo him out of the office.

In the Owlery, Dumbledore looked around to find the right bird to use. He needed one that was fast and utterly reliable. His eyes lit upon the snowy owl, Hedwig. "Come here, girl, I have a mission for you, and I don't think your master will mind if I use you whilst he is laid up under Poppy's excellent care."

She ruffled her feathers a bit, blinked at him before acceding to his request and flying down to the centre plinth. She stuck out her foot to him so he could tie the message on securely.

"Now take this to the Flamel's and come right back. I'm sure by the time you get here, Harry will be awake." She snapped her beak at him once and flew off into the reddening early morning sky.

o00o

Perenelle Flamel stood on the balcony of their modest manor house in the south of France, where she and Nicolas had moved - a century or so ago. She breathed in the wonderful early afternoon air, scented with jasmine and rose oils from the bushes in the garden below. Across the gently rolling hills nearby, she could see a large white owl heading straight for her. She watched as it fluttered down to the stone balustrade and held out its foot so that she could remove the message.

"Well, aren't you the polite one? Merci!" she said as she checked the handwriting on the outside of the envelope. She recognised Albus' spidery scrawl. "Here, you must be thirsty. Come with me and I'll get you something before you need to take off again." She lifted the bird to her shoulder and walked back through the open French doors into the dining room where Nicolas was finishing a light lunch and reading the local newspaper.

"Message from Albus, dear," she said as she handed the note to him and placed Hedwig on the table near a goblet of pumpkin juice. "Here you go, have a good drink now - would you like some chicken bits?" She tore off some of her sandwich and placed it on a napkin near the owl, who was gratefully drinking the juice. She looked up as she heard a contemplative sound from her husband.

"Bad news?" she asked.

"Depends. Albus had to destroy the stone this morning. Seems Voldemort managed to find a way into the school and through the obstacle course Albus had set up, only to be thwarted by the mirror. However, young Potter managed to retrieve the stone and defeat Voldemort yet again."

"Oh, dear! Is he all right?"

"Apparently he will be, although he was injured in Voldemort's attack. He's a lucky young man." He sat back in his carved mahogany chair and eyed his wife of over five-hundred years. "Are you ready to take the next step, my dear? We only have enough elixir for a few more months."

She went to sit on the armrest of his chair, placing an arm around his neck and kissing him lightly on top of his head. "I've followed you this long, Nico, I'm not going to abandon you now. Whatever comes, will come. It is time to move on and leave this world to the younger wizards. We've done enough. As Albus says, let's go on to the next great adventure. I'm ready if you are."

Nicolas chuckled as he snaked his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap to kiss her properly. Neither of them heard the snowy owl leave the room and fly out the open doors to wing her way back to Scotland and her master.


	3. Chapter 3

This story was written in response to the Fiction Alley 2007 fan-fiction challenge series - April Fools Challenge. It was written by a team of writers called BeST; also known for their Betaing prowess. The team is made up of two writers and two grammarians – one American, the other British and PI accredited, who lives in Germany. The Authors are Zarathustra from America and Les Dowich from Australia. We ask that you read and enjoy!

**Title: Bungle in the Jungle**

**Prompt: Tom Riddle got lost in the jungle with Captain Kirk.**

**Disclaimer: This story contains characters not only from the Harry Potter universe, but the original Star Trek 1965-1967 series and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights in either universe.**

The cool dimness of the Albanian forests took on a deathly silence. Something unnatural and utterly evil was hunting. The rat paused to survey the canopy until it spotted a grey squirrel foraging for nuts. The concentrated evil that was Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort, detached itself from the small rodent soul and flung itself at the unsuspecting squirrel, its spirit-hooks spread wide to bury deep into the small consciousness it had targeted. Then horror… A disembodied shriek of rage and terror faded from even the subconscious as the forest slowly came back to life.

o00o

James Kirk brightened as he saw his second-in-command waiting for him at the hallway juncture ahead. He felt Doctor McCoy quicken his step as he, too, saw the dour Vulcan.

"Well, Mr Spock, are you ready for shore leave?" the Captain asked. "I am told the planet below is lovely, with fresh air…"

"Captain, I was merely going to escort you and the doctor to the transporter room. As you know, I never voluntarily take shore leave," he said in a matter-of-fact tone as he paced beside his superior officer, hands clasped behind his back.

Spock snuck a sideways look at Doctor McCoy and noted a look of -- dare he think it? -- _glee_ in the man's eyes!

"Mr Spock," the physician said, mirth infiltrating his voice, "according to Star Fleet Regulation 122, Section five, paragraph…"

"…six, all Starfleet personnel must take shore leave every ninety days," Spock finished. "Your point, Doctor?"

"You are overdue and I am insisting!" McCoy crossed his arms in front of his chest in mock seriousness, although the smile on his face belied that fact.

Spock sighed. "If you insist!" he acceded.

"Perhaps you can wear the Hawaiian shirt Doctor McCoy gave you for Christmas," Kirk teased.

Spock's left eyebrow rose as _he _crossed his arms.

'_Wish I could do that!_' Kirk mused, a faint smile colouring his expression as they entered the transporter room. '_If I didn't know that he was Vulcan, I'd swear he practiced in a mirror to get just the right haughtiness._'

Kirk, Spock, McCoy and two red-uniformed security personnel stepped onto the transporter platform ready to beam down. Mr Scott nodded as he programmed the coordinates and beamed them to the planet below. Montgomery Scott's instinct suddenly froze his hand on the controls, then he continued with the transport as no alarm sounded. The blip had been so quick that he assumed it might have been his imagination . . . or his paranoia acting up.

o00o

Ensign Uttson stumbled as they materialised on the lush green world they called the Shore Leave Planet. Tom Riddle gasped and blinked the eyes of his new host, realising he had hooked a human! Going from small rodents to an individual's body was rather disorienting; he knew he had to move his host away from the others while he 'settled in'.

The host was amenable, staring about the light forest in obedience to Voldemort's commands. Once free from observation, Tom Riddle firmed his hold and readied the man for a small spell but could not find his wand. A hint of panic entered his thoughts, as he wasn't good with wandless magic. Instead, his questing fingers found an oddly-shaped Muggle device, and his host's memories showed him how to use the 'phaser'. There was a dial for different effects, which, the host seemed to feel, needed a sentient being to show up the true potential. The 'stun' setting did very little to a tree but caused the other guard to lose consciousness.

A trill made Voldemort jump, but his host stabbed a hand down to his belt and pulled out the thing he named 'communicator'. It requested he 'check in'. Voldemort studied the thing in baffled silence, his phaser idly blazing away, forgotten in his hand. He was still trying to understand what the host was supposed to do when a voice spoke from behind him.

"Ensign, why are you blasting that bush?"

Mr Spock, always alert to aberrant behaviour, had noticed the Ensign. Spock ducked as a swathe of fire almost carved him in two, then pinched the nerve in Uttson's neck. As Spock wrapped an arm around the young man's shoulders, something coiled out of Uttson's forehead and burrowed into Spock's conscious mind, taking control of him.

Voldemort was not pleased at the change of venue, especially as it was involuntary. His last host had had such delicious predatory thoughts still to be explored. Then he felt his new host rebel, trying a very strange type of Legilimency to find him. Pleased, Tom dove deeper into the mind seeing the oddly built barriers and taboos that were walled away, plucking at them to find out what they contained. Laughter, anger, fear -- emotions rigidly controlled -- and Voldemort sniggered as he released them all.

Spock foamed and twitched, writhing in the dirt as he fought the organism in his mind for control of his body. The alien presence was malicious and dangerous, attempting to take over his mind. It laughed and thought this was better than _Crucio_ before it seemed to writhe and depart.

Doctor McCoy and Janice Rand were strolling through the woods when they spotted Mr Spock having an epileptic fit. McCoy whipped out his tricorder and immediately scanned the helpless Vulcan, as the Yeoman bent down to check on the Commander, placing a hand on his forehead. Better safe than sorry, McCoy pressed a hypospray of sedative against Spock's neck and the Vulcan went limp. Janice screamed reflexively, then screamed again as something slammed into her mind, making her almost swallow her tongue as she felt instantly drunk. To her horror, her hands came up to weigh her breasts, then crawl all over herself, testing and checking.

_'No! Or… Yes! Female, by the feel of it and…'_ To his dazed horror, Voldemort felt a giggle coming on as he staggered. He slapped a hand over his host's mouth to stifle it but instead gave a little skip, then a bigger one, his rather pneumatic frontal assets cantilevering, dragging the skin of his upper torso down, then bouncing back to whack himself in the face. His hand squelched his nose when another equally horrifying and impossible sensation hit. Bodily functions! He needed to… but with what? He screamed again as he attempted to discover a way out of the tunic and attached knickers she was wearing.

McCoy stared, flabbergasted, as Janice began to try and remove her clothes in a frantic scrabble, muttering about 'impossible peas'. There was something very wrong – but interesting - about the young woman's stripping, her voice cursing in Latin, then giggling madly about lack of proper plumbing. He was still fumbling out another tranquiliser when the Captain hurried over. Janice flung her arms around his neck and began kissing him wildly.

Kirk couldn't believe what was happening! He tried pushing her away – she was his Yeoman, this wasn't proper Starfleet behaviour! But she resisted his efforts. Even as Janice wriggled against him, something followed the path of her tongue and drilled into Kirk's brain with a cry of _'a real mind'_. Kirk felt instantly drunk as the entity drove through his brain, plucking incidents and emotions at random. His body tossed Janice aside, while he noted, cynically, that she ran off crying rather than making an effort to resist, the Hufflepuff!

'_Prettier and perkier than Bella any day,_' the entity thought, then spotted Spock slowly climbing to his feet. '_Well, things are certainly looking up! I always preferred brunettes, especially males._' To Kirk's helpless horror, he realised his hand was about to perform an unforgivable, but Doctor McCoy saved his dignity with a well-placed hypospray. The entity in Kirk's head wailed in fury as it was slowly driven out of his mind and coalesced above in a fine, dirty mist of particles. It darted toward McCoy but a touch of the phaser beam drove it back into the centre of the circle until Ensign Uttson contacted Mr Scott. The particles glowed as the matter stream engulfed them but, when Mr Scott terminated the transport inside a containment field, there was nothing there.

o00o

"The ion cloud the beam passed through on the way down to the planet seemed to have gathered the cloud entity, but as the beam came back, the entity was again deposited into the cloud and lost," Mr Scott reported to the Captain later that afternoon.

"I think we can put this incident down to a learning curve and call it case closed," Kirk decided with a shudder.

o00o

Tom Riddle slammed down again into another consciousness and immediately felt the difference. This was a real mind, a wizarding mind, a weak and useful mind. This was a Quirrell, not a squirrel, it had a real wand, and…

"Oh Merlin, why me?" Tom Riddle asked, looking for a convenient tree as his new body's functions kicked in!

Authors notes: The title for this piece was taken from the Jethro Tull song of the same name.

"Bungle In The Jungle"

Walking through forests of palm tree apartments --  
scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents  
down by the waterhole -- drunk every Friday --  
eating their nuts -- saving their raisins for Sunday.  
Lions and tigers who wait in the shadows --  
they're fast but they're lazy, and sleep in green meadows.

Let's bungle in the jungle -- well, that's all right by me.  
I'm a tiger when I want love,  
but I'm a snake if we disagree.

Just say a word and the boys will be right there:  
with claws at your back to send a chill through the night air.  
Is it so frightening to have me at your shoulder?  
Thunder and lightning couldn't be bolder.  
I'll write on your tombstone, I thank you for dinner.''  
This game that we animals play is a winner.

Let's bungle in the jungle -- well, that's all right by me.  
I'm a tiger when I want love,  
but I'm a snake if we disagree.

The rivers are full of crocodile nasties  
and He who made kittens put snakes in the grass.  
He's a lover of life but a player of pawns --  
yes, the King on His sunset lies waiting for dawn  
to light up His Jungle  
as play is resumed.  
The monkeys seem willing to strike up the tune.


	4. Chapter 4

This story was written in response to the Fiction Alley 2007 fan-fiction challenge series - May Challenge. It was written by a team of writers called BeST; also known for their Betaing prowess. The team is made up of two writers and two grammarians – one American, the other British and PI accredited, who lives in Germany. The Authors are Zarathustra from America and Les Dowich from Australia. We ask that you read and enjoy!

And we will also say now: Yes we know Ravenclaw's wand is totally AU now. Hey, it was as good a guess as any, prior to 7-21!

**Title: In Vino Veritas**

**Prompt: Cornelius Fudge bought Dandelion Wine from Harry Potter**

**Rating: PG**

He was going to do it! He had taken all he was going to take, the sly looks and sudden silences when he entered the room. The last straw was the patronising air that prig, Percy Weasley, adopted every time they had to interact. Did he forget where he came from? Who he owed his position to? And now that – _Bootlicker_ - had invited him to dinner at the Ministry, as if conferring an honour! The colourful pamphlet in his hand crackled suggestively as his fingers balled into fists.

Still, all good dinner guests brought wine, didn't they? And if that wine did not quite agree with the host, then it was not the innocent guest's fault, now was it? Sniggering to himself, Cornelius ran his eyes down the list of new products available from WWW, the sparkling bottle of pale yellow Dandelion wine calling his name in seductive tones. Perfect!

o00o

The brass bell over the door tinkled as another customer pushed into the crowded, colourful confines of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, smells assaulting the senses from all sides. Harry glanced up at Forge, who was nodding over a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, and shook his head as he pushed himself to his feet and slouched out to see who had come in. The twins had agreed to let him have a few days of 'normal life' serving at the counter in their Diagon Alley shop, while Ron and Hermione did some much needed research before the trio headed out again on the next leg of their Horcrux hunt.

At first he could not see anyone in the shop until he noticed movement over by the window, a silhouette outlined against the weak summer sunshine. The customer seemed to be looking at something across the street. Harry frowned; the only thing across the street was Ollivander's shop. Taking a deep breath, Harry asked if he could be of help, the figure's shoulders twitching for a moment.

"It seems such a shame that Ollivanders is all boarded up like that. So many purchased their first wands there, have done for centuries, you know." The man heaved a large sigh, then started up again. "The first Ollivander made the wands for the original founders of Hogwarts, according to Orgenius. He even had Rowena Ravenclaw's own wand in the window for a while." The figure turned and both speaker and listener gasped as they recognised each other in that instant.

"Potter!"

"Mr Fudge," Harry replied in controlled tones. "How can I help you today?"

"_You_ help _me_?" Cornelius asked, surprised. "Why would you help me?"

"I am assisting the Weasley twins in the shop this week and you are a customer," Harry stated the obvious, keeping his tone pleasant by a dint of effort.

"Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived serving in a joke shop," Fudge mused, his lip curling derisively at his perceived irony of the situation. "Very well, I want a bottle of Dandelion Wine. Is it any good?"

"Of course it is, Madam Rosmerta's finest," Harry said scornfully. '_Brewed in the back cellar of the Three Broomsticks, in a cast iron tub,_' he added gleefully in his thoughts. "Can I interest you in a tasting?" he asked formally.

"Only fools and philistines buy wine without taste testing," Fudge said loftily, making an airy gesture. "Bring me a sample."

Harry bowed slightly and only just stopped himself tugging his forelock in disgust as he backed away and disappeared behind the curtain that separated the workshop from the sales floor. "Hey Forge, have we got some Veritaserum? I need some, quickly!"

A long arm came out of the shadows and deposited a familiar tiny bottle in his hand as Gred stopped by his brother, identical grins of malicious delight lighting their faces. "Is little Harry-kins pissed at a punter?" one of them asked.

"Like you would not believe!" Harry muttered, quickly assembling a tray, a white cloth, a small wineglass and a dollop of potion into the clean glass before hurrying out again.

Fudge did not notice the slight dampness in the glass as he watched Harry uncork and pour a sample of the wine. With gloating glee, he mused that it was most gratifying to have one's position in the world reinforced by simple service, was it not? Taking the proffered glass, he made a production of sniffing and swirling, checking the bouquet and the colour before taking a healthy swig and rolling it around in his mouth. It wasn't bad, as far as Fudge could tell, not bad at all, in fact…. He finished the sample and nodded his approval as Harry topped it up again.

"So, Minister, is it true Ollivander had Rowena Ravenclaw's wand in his shop?" Harry asked carefully, keeping his head down as he waited for the answer.

"In the window actually, not marked, of course. Used to brag that a cored wand had been designed by Ravenclaw herself and that was why all his wands were cored, not like the inferior rubbish wizards from the continent had to use. A good quality wood with a reliable magical core did it every time. It was part of Ravenclaw's philosophy that a wand chose the wizard, but that's what happens when a Ravenclaw is in charge of something so important, don't you know. Intellectuals, heads in the clouds and so out of touch with the realities of a situation until it bites them on the arse. I shall miss Orgenius, despite him going a little peculiar toward the end there."

"Peculiar? How?" Harry prompted quietly, perhaps this was the information he needed for the next step in his journey. He waited for the ex-Minister's answer with anticipation.

"Oh, the old fool thought Ravenclaw's wand was possessed, said it seemed to talk to him every now and again. Then Tobias Langford tried to use it, managing to stab himself in the eye, although why he was playing with it in the first place was a mystery. '_A malicious act of a possessed and daemonic tool_', Orgenius said at the Leaky Cauldron a couple of days before he left." Fudge drifted off and took another swig of the wine.

"What else did he say about it?"

"Foolish talk of Hor-_hic_-cruxes and soul fragments, things of Dark Magic, silly old fart." He stared blearily at Harry, trying to focus on the teen. "Said You-Know-Who had stolen the wand and did something terrible to it before the Aurors recovered it from Knockturn Alley, as if –_hic_- such a thing was possible." He snorted into his glass before taking another swig.

"Why isn't it possible?" Harry asked, curiously.

"No such thing as You-Know-Who!" Fudge spluttered loudly, starting to go purple in the face. Harry thought the man might give Uncle Vernon a run for his money. "Foolish, scaremongering, bloody Harry Potter! Rude boy ... liar ... needs to be punished for his insolence, damn his – _hic_ - eyes!"

Harry ducked the wildly flailing arm as Fred and George poked their heads around the curtains to watch the ex-Minister's antics. They shook their heads and grinned at Harry who was having a hard time believing what the Minister had just told him, even if he was Veritaserumed and incapable of lying.

"How much did you give him, Harry?" Fred whispered with lively curiosity.

"Er, about a quarter inch in the bottom of the glass," Harry mumbled.

"Ah, that would explain it…"

"…overdosed to the max…"

"…and giggly as a girl…"

"Good one, Harry! What did he want -- "

"-- the wine for?"

"He didn't say…" Harry started to explain.

"Dinner with your prat of a brother," Fudge answered truthfully, his choler beginning to even out as he calmed down.

The twins exchanged long, knowing looks and disappeared for a few moments before reappearing with a gift-wrapped bottle, which one of them presented ceremoniously to the former Minister. "With our compliments," the other said gleefully.

Nodding regally, Fudge took the bottle as if it was his right and exited the shop with his head held high, his hat askew, and leaving behind a puzzled young man and two very satisfied pranksters.

"I thought the wine was just a base for prank potions," Harry said, puzzled.

"It is," Forge assured him, high-fiving his twin, and grinning at Harry's puzzled look. "Since you were having such success with Fudge, we simply added Veritaserum to the whole _bottle_," George explained further.

"His dinner with Percy will be a very, er, _honest_, one!" Fred said, laughing.

"Oh, to be a fly on that wall!" The twins fell on each other's shoulders, cackling insanely.

Rolling his eyes, Harry folded up the towel neatly, and went to find Ron and Hermione. They had some work to do -- a wand maker and wand to find. This had been a very profitable stint in the joke shop. He only hoped all his leads would come this easily!


	5. Chapter 5

This story was written in response to the Fiction Alley 2007 fan-fiction challenge series - June Weddings. It was written by a team of writers called BeST; also known for their Betaing prowess. The team is made up of two writers and two grammarians – one American, the other British and PI accredited, who lives in Germany. The Authors are Zarathustra from America and Les Dowich from Australia. We ask that you read and enjoy!

**A Slytherin Arrangement**

**Prompt: Professor Sinistra married Slughorn in a lovely wedding.**

**Rating: G**

Aurora Sinistra stood atop the Astronomy Tower, feet planted wide, head tossed back, clipboard in hand. She blinked and blinked again, the familiar constellations fading in and out of her diminishing sight. A tiny whimper of loss broke out as she slumped; too many hours at the telescope and reading tiny star maps had ruined her eyesight. Why now, when she was so close to securing her place in posterity! Why now? There had to be a way!

o00o

Horace Slughorn stared down into the cauldron and licked his lips in anticipation. Only one more step and he would have succeeded, finally, gloriously, and immemorially! His chubby hand groped behind him and came up empty, a few lone crystals of sugar left in a corner of the tin; the final remains of his pineapple supply. He pouted then collapsed. How was he supposed to function now? Oh, Dumbledore had his lemon drops - as common as muck - but Horace had to fixate on pineapple, crystallised pineapple at that, for his continuing use of magic at a useful level. If he was to survive as one of the best Potions masters in the world and keep his hold over his wide circle of contacts, he needed his pineapple fix desperately.

An owl flew in at the window and shook its leg impatiently. Ah, the final step for their potion that would cure wizard kind from failing ocular acuity forever! Master Zamintia Nordestrom had finally come through with the last, key research! He tore into the letter eagerly, then let out a howl of outrage, enough to scare the post owl away and raise an echoing howl from the Forbidden Forest. Apparently, bachelors were not stable enough to handle the ensuing furore that the completion of this potion would engender. So, he needed a wife; to be cosily married before the old _fool_ would send the details, as a wedding present. Horace broke down in defeat, grandiose plans tinkling in fragments around him.

o00o

The Great Hall was almost deserted when Aurora stumped in, tossing herself down in her seat. She noticed Horace Slughorn slumped in his seat, an overturned bottle near his hand. Interesting. He was muttering to himself, a constant litany of complaints and self-pitying grumbles, slurred and indistinct until Aurora picked up the word 'eyesight failing' and 'potion to recover it'. Her ears pricked up and she listened attentively while she carefully poured coffee and pretended not to notice. 'Marriage', 'misogynistic old fools' and 'no pineapple' also featured in the Potion master's subdued rant. Aurora had not been sorted into Slytherin for nothing and she instantly added these unguarded mutterings to the other facts and rumours she had picked up over the last few days. Perhaps … perhaps! A worthy smirk twisted her face as she quietly exited the hall, not realising a pair of very clear and calculating brown eyes followed her progress. Slughorn had not been sorted into Slytherin for nothing, either, and Aurora was a handsome woman

o00o

The 'Ua'u circled down and landed near Aurora Sinistra, a package clutched firmly in its claws. She gave the bird a piece of fruit and opened the package carefully making sure she had someone's certain attention as she held the thing up for closer inspection, the stylised pineapple on the gaudy lid clearly visible to interested parties. Sighing, she set it down above her plate and continued to eat her breakfast, ignoring the build up of speculation in the Great Hall.

Horace sidled over at the conclusion of the meal and tapped the box with a pudgy finger. "These people make only the very best of the crystallised pineapple, you know?" he remarked winningly.

Aurora cast the box a disinterested look. "Cousin Howie is trying to get me to part with the family secret recipe. He is only a paternal cousin and is not allowed to have it, only the female line is; Polynesian magic, you know? I have it and he wants it so it makes for interesting family gatherings, believe me!" She laughed softly, sounding almost evil, and Horace grinned. "You are an expert on pineapple, Horace. Here, try this lot and see if he has managed to get even close this time." She thrust the box into his hands and left him with his prize.

o00o

Horace stared down into the now-empty pineapple box and sighed deeply. The product had been good - not great - but it had eased him over the blow of Nordestrom's failure to share his research. If Horace wanted to gain his place in posterity, he was going to have to deal with Sinistra, but what did he have to bribe her with? He was going to have to do some research on Aurora Sinistra, witch and holder of the precious pineapple recipe!

It was difficult to follow her habits as she was almost nocturnal, thanks to her profession, but he managed to find out quite a lot about her personal life; only daughter, last female of her line, heiress to the almost legendary sacred plantations on the steep volcanic slopes of Ouahu. If she didn't have a daughter, then she would lose control of the plantations and the secret, and her cousin's daughter would win. Perhaps, it was enough.

o00o

"So you are saying that, if I marry you, I can have a daughter and thus secure my inheritance for yet another generation," Aurora reiterated. "But I really don't care about the pineapple plantation or the recipe; I don't even like crystallised pineapple!"

He was so scandalised he nearly fell off his chair in shock. "Don't care? But, but, but it's the food of the gods!" The words were almost forced out involuntarily.

"No, I'm sorry, Horace, much as I like you, it's not something I would actually…"

"Wait! I have a potion…" he blurted out, then settled himself as she paused in her rising. "I am developing a potion that will help with eyesight, making weak eyes new again, for the Boy-Who-Lived, you know. Does first testing of that potion interest you?" he asked softly, watching the rather handsome woman purse her lips in thought.

"I'll want everything in writing," she said, sitting back down to begin their negotiations in earnest.

o00o

The Great Hall was bedecked, the wedding of two professors bringing forth the house-elves' best efforts. The guests were milling around and eyeing each other over the canapés with distrustful eyes; the small chamber orchestra was tuning up in the corner, while Horace grinned expansively, rocking on his toes in satisfaction. Zamintia Nordestrom had given him an elaborately beribboned scroll for his wedding present containing his research and his best wishes for a comfortable, well organised life. His new bride, six inches taller than he, laid a protective hand over her still-flat abdomen and smiled toothily at the contingent of Hawaiian relatives who were shivering under the tyranny of the Scottish climate and wondering how their carefully laid plans for inheritance by default had just slipped away from between their fingers.

Aurora smiled graciously at the surrounding mass, her other hand lightly on her new groom's arm as the few students who had been invited looked a little green in one corner. There was a piece of parchment in her pocket, stating that her submission to the Royal College of Astronomers had been accepted and the new comet was to be called Aurora Zone One. Sluggy's potion, even in its incomplete form, was enough for her to finish the final calculations and plot her own private piece of heaven.

Professor Flitwick raised his handkerchief to dab his eyes, turning to Minerva with a watery smile. "It was a lovely wedding," he sniffled. "Such a handsome couple…"

Minerva nodded judiciously, but Snape raised a sceptical eyebrow, his arms crossing automatically across his chest. "Two Slytherins? Together?" he remarked with a derisive snort. Minerva nearly snorted her sherry at his comment and had to turn around to gaze at the now-dancing couple to keep Severus from seeing her amused smirk.

Two Slytherins indeed – she thought. Those two would be plotting rings around each other for the rest of their lives, and Aurora was already expecting! Merlin help the school when that child joined the student population. She sighed and sipped some more sherry before allowing Severus to lead her onto the dance floor in a respectable waltz.


	6. Chapter 6

This was written as part of the June 2007 FA challenges, and is one of two that Zarathustra wrote alone for these challenges. Read and enjoy.

**Natty Nuptials**

**Prompt: Gilderoy Lockhart married Molly Weasley on the beach.**

**Rating: G**

Molly stood in front of the full-length mirror, amazed – at her age – to see herself dressed again in wedding robes. She lifted a hand to tuck a greying wisp of auburn hair behind her ear and patted the veil in place.

"Very nice, dearie! You'll stun them all!" said the mirror. Molly agreed with a bemused smile. Ginny, Fleur and Hermione had fussed over her all morning, making sure that she looked absolutely perfect. Fleur had commissioned the robes from a French designer with whom she was acquainted. Hermione had organised the entire day from start to finish with her usual perfectionism and attention to the smallest details, determined that her mother-in-law was not going to raise a finger to do anything that day, other than marry and dance. Ginny had taken over the make-up and hair detail, ensuring her mother looked her best for this most important of days. Molly had protested the girls' major participation as the two youngest were both far along in their first pregnancies, but they had ignored her completely.

She could hear the music floating through the open window from the tent situated nearby on the beach, Celestina Warbeck entertaining prior to the ceremony. She could see the guests taking their seats; not many, mostly friends and family. Soon Bill and Remus would be knocking at her door to escort her to her fiancé.

Her fiancé…

Who would have thought she would be saying those words again? It certainly had been the furthest thing from her mind when she had landed in the Spell Damage Ward at St Mungo's near the end of that terrible year when Harry had finally defeated Voldemort.

She had lost Arthur on an Order mission earlier in the year to a stray killing curse that had ricocheted during a Death Eater ambush. She had been left watching over a pregnant Fleur, Ginny in a funk over Harry leaving her behind, and worrying to death over the trio, as they had slipped out of the Burrow and no one knew where they had gone or what they were doing.

She still harboured some residual anger over that little manoeuvre of theirs; just leaving one night after Bill and Fleur's wedding when everyone else was asleep. No notes, no owls, no contact whatsoever. She had eventually forgiven them when they had shown back up before the final showdown between Harry and Voldemort, wearied but triumphant as they had completed their mission.

Then the Burrow had been attacked, and she had placed herself in front of Fleur and absorbed a multiple series of _Cruciatus_ curses aimed at the girl who was carrying her first grandchild. The Aurors and Order members had arrived soon afterwards, but the damage had been done. She hadn't lost her mind like the Longbottoms, but it had been close. Her recovery had taken months of therapy and potions.

Molly lingered on those thoughts. Her therapy sessions with her fellow ward residents had been very helpful, and there had been one wizard who had caught her eye immediately: Gilderoy Lockhart.

She had shied away from him at first, not knowing what he remembered, if anything, about how he had lost his memory. It was soon obvious that he remembered nothing from his previous life, although he had retained his suave nature, and his outgoing personality. No memories from before landing in the hospital, and even his former flamboyant taste in clothes had been greatly subdued.

It had been explained to him what he had done in his former life, but it really held no interest for him anymore. He was a changed wizard, and he credited Molly and her no-nonsense manner for initiating that change. Or, at least, that is what he told her and anyone who commented on the improvement. Due to her influence, he was planning on revising his publications to reflect the actual wizards and witches responsible for the feats he had originally claimed as his own - if he could ever find his original notes.

As he was nearing release, he had roaming privileges in hospital, and so, after Molly's third group session, he had invited her to join him on the fifth-floor for tea. A long talk ensued, and they discovered many things in common. It soon became habit for Gilderoy to take her to tea after their sessions, or come to her room and take her for walks along the corridors, taking her arm in his and letting her lean on him for support. After he had been released, he had made it a point to visit with her several times a week to take her to tea. After she had been discharged, he changed those visits to calling on her at the Burrow, to the great amusement of her family. A year later he had proposed under the apple tree in the backyard, presenting her with a beautiful diamond encrusted ring, and she had said yes.

A knock at the door let her know Bill and Remus were ready for her. She picked up her bouquet and joined them, letting them lead her down the carpet behind her daughters- escorted by their husbands - and her little granddaughter who was scattering flower petals for her grandmother to walk on.

She saw Gilderoy standing under the canopy, dressed in formal grey robes, the setting sun perfectly framed behind him. His face lit up as he saw her walking towards him, and she let his smile float her down the rest of the way to his side.

She remembered Ron once saying, many years ago, that she fancied Gilderoy. She really hadn't then; he had just been a famous author who was very handsome. She did now, though; and as Bill placed her hand in Gilderoy's, she smiled up at him with love in her eyes and saw the same love shining in his as he bent down to kiss her.


	7. Chapter 7

This story was written in response to the Fiction Alley 2007 fan-fiction challenge series. It was written by a team of writers called BeST; also known for their Betaing prowess. The team is made up of two writers and two grammarians – one American, the other British and PI accredited, who lives in Germany. The Authors are Zarathustra from America and Les Dowich from Australia. We ask that you read and enjoy!

**Title: Professor Slughorn and An Excess of Seamus**

**Prompt: Professor Slughorn Spends Time in the Astronomy Tower with Seamus Finnegan**

Horace Slughorn had a secret, an obscure fact known only to a very few. He rubbed his pudgy hands together as he plotted the best way to implement this exciting tidbit of information to the best advantage of "Sluggy".

o00o

"Slughorn invited me to a meeting," Seamus remarked.

"No offence, Seamus, but what have you got that Slughorn wants?" Hermione said, lifting her head from the book in her lap, a gleam in her eye.

"His transfiguration skills?" Dean teased good-naturedly.

"Yeh never know. Me rum's as good as Ogden's." Seamus only exaggerated a little. After six years of effort, he had finally turned water into very acceptable rum.

"It might be, actually," Hermione contradicted with conviction. "Fine liquors appeal to Slughorn's tastes and vanity, I believe."

"You know, that might be true," Harry mused. "Okay, we'll go together, Seamus."

o00o

Slughorn swept down on the pair of Gryffindors. Harry braced himself, but Slughorn elbowed him out of the way to place a weighty arm around Seamus' shoulders and draw him aside. "My boy, come and meet Lionel Davenport. He is from the Department of Imports. My dear Lionel, here is Mr Finnegan; his mother was one of the Ballhallow Morgans."

"Really? Colleen, daughter of Connor Morgan?" Davenport asked with a growing interest.

"Aye, me Mum was a Morgan, and Granda's called Connor," Seamus admitted cautiously.

"Ah, and you would have been named for your Uncle Seamus," Davenport said almost playfully. "How is Seamus these days? I haven't seen him since the Dublin Accords Conference."

Seamus nodded and smiled, while he tried to remember what had happened at that Conference. He knew it had been very bad but he couldn't recall. Fortunately, Harry saw his desperate plea and came to rescue him, even allowing Seamus to push his 'Boy-Who-Lived' status when the man seemed determined to conduct what was becoming too much of an interrogation for Seamus' liking.

Professor Slughorn handed both boys glasses of pumpkin juice, waiting until they seemed to sip it before pinning Seamus with a sapient eye. "Mr Davenport here wants to meet with your uncle as soon as possible. Harry, you will use your influence to help Seamus organise a meeting."

Both boys nodded and left the meeting without looking back.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked as they escaped into the corridor. They still carried the pumpkin juice that had been thrust into their hands, but neither had actually drunk any. Seamus was about to really swig his off when Harry stopped him, the caution of experience making him wary. "We'll let Hermione have a look at this stuff before we drink it, okay?" he said flatly.

"I'll send an owl to me mum and find out what Uncle Seamus has been up to," Seamus replied grimly as they made their way back to the Gryffindor tower.

o00o

'_Astronomy Tower, 10pm Thursday._' The note was terse, but it made Slughorn smile widely as he crumpled the paper and carefully burned it up. This was going to be a very interesting meeting indeed.

o00o

"He took the bait," Dean muttered, as he passed his friends in the corridor. Seamus smiled tightly and let out a slow breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. When Hermione told them there was liquid _Imperius_ in the pumpkin juice he had been ready for a fight. The owl from his mother had made it clear that the information he was asking for was volatile and a follow-up Floo call from Hogsmeade had been enlightening.

o00o

Slughorn stopped a third of the way up the Astronomy Tower steps to wipe his forehead with a large silk handkerchief. If he had realised how much effort he was going to have to expend to secure his former student, Hepsazah Lowandorf, in the Department of Imports, he would have been less enthusiastic. Still, ensuring the pineapple flowed, regardless of the global conditions and tightening importation laws, was worth a little discomfort! Davenport had agreed to leave his agent alone if Seamus Morgan met with him. Using Finnegan to contact his uncle had been brilliant, although he was mildly curious as to why.

Davenport followed the struggling figure up the stairs, hidden under an Invisibility Cloak. The dupe had contacted Morgan, who might be the 'Don Ho' of the Dublin Crystallized Pineapple Mafia, but he was also the upstart half-blood who was threatening him.

How Morgan had found out Davenport was responsible for Agnes Bones' pregnancy was beyond him; no one had seen them slip away and he had threatened Bones with _Obliviate_ as soon as she had revealed her pregnancy. How was he to know she was related to Morgan or that she would jeopardise his other business? My God, crossing Morgan was tantamount to political and commercial suicide! So now Morgan had to be _Obliterated_, and he would never know what hit him!

o00o

"Are you sure you want to do this, Seamus?" Harry asked rhetorically.

"Yeah, he's been threatening my uncle and cousin and refusing his responsibilities. No one messes with our family," Seamus said harshly as he gulped the foul Polyjuice Potion Hermione had acquired for him. There had been no time to brew it.

Changing into his uncle wasn't hard, as he was very like his namesake. A set of good robes instead of his school robes and he was set to meet the wizard who was endangering his family. Harry nodded and slipped under his Invisibility cloak, ready to watch Seamus' back as footsteps sounded on the stairs and Sluggy rose into view.

"Ah, good, you're here," Slughorn exclaimed, rubbing his hands together happily.

"What's this all about?" Seamus demanded angrily.

Slughorn frowned. "Why, Mr Davenport asked me to arrange the meeting, but he seems to be a little late. I'm sure he will be here in a moment. He didn't tell me why he wanted to see you, so I asked your nephew to set up the meeting."

"Really? Backed by an _Imperius_ compulsion, no less," Seamus snarled. He was surprised to see shock written on the fat face before him.

"I would never…"

"No, the fat fool would never…," a voice said, and a wand and head appeared out of thin air. "But _I _would, Morgan. I told that stupid cousin of yours not to open her big mouth, but did she listen? '_You have to help me, Lionel; you know it's your child._' No offspring of mine would ever come out of a Mudblood! And then she threatened me with you!"

Harry could hear Seamus' teeth grind but before he could do anything, there was a disturbance and another copy of Seamus Morgan appeared as a _Disillusionment_ charm was finished.

"So you finally admit to seducing our cousin then?"

"Who the hell are you?" Sluggy demanded as Davenport stared at the two copies of Seamus.

"You used an Imperius Potion on Agnes, then seduced her; a helpless victim to your machinations." There was another ripple and yet another Seamus Morgan appeared!

"What the Hell is this? Damn you, Slughorn! How many people did you tell about this meeting?" Davenport demanded, glancing about wildly.

"Does it matter?" Harry asked, lowering his cloak and pointing his wand. "You tried Imperius Potion on Seamus and I, and we have proof of that. If Agnes says you did the same to her, then you are finished."

"Morgan will go down with me!" Davenport screeched. "Did he tell you he runs the Irish Mafia? Did he tell you how he smuggles werewolves in and out of Ireland? Bet he didn't tell you how he smuggles goods into England, but we've caught his agents!"

"Only those who could not produce the bribes you demanded. That was why you seduced my cousin in the first place; to make her look less credible when she testified against you!" Seamus snarled bitterly.

Slughorn's wand faltered between the three Seamus', unsure of where he stood. As they continued to screech, he realised his Pineapple connection was not in question. He finally chose a side, pointing his wand at Davenport, who didn't seem to realise he was badly outnumbered.

"Her big mouth, supported by your network, would destroy my blackmail and bribes ring completely, thus endangering my livelihood. I cannot allow that to happen, so I bid you adieu," Davenport said with a maniacal laugh, his wand moving.

Two _Expelliarmus_ and one bludger spell hit him before he could complete the movement, Slughorn's _Jelly Legs_ jinx going wide and Harry's _Petrificus Totalus_ probably saving Davenport's life as the bludger spell hit him on the head.

Slughorn stared at the three Seamus clones, demanding 'who the hell _are _you?' as a circle of broomsticks rose, each bearing a red-clad rider; the Aurors had arrived.

"Seamus Finnegan, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, actually," Harry announced smugly. "You didn't think we would let a friend down in a crunch, did you?"


	8. Chapter 8

This story was written in response to the Fiction Alley 2007 fan-fiction challenge series - August Challenge. It was written by a team of writers called BeST; also known for their Betaing prowess. The team is made up of two writers and two grammarians – one American, the other British and PI accredited, who lives in Germany. The Authors are Zarathustra from America and Les Dowich from Australia. We ask that you read and enjoy!

**Title:** **The Play is the thing…**

**Prompt: Professor McGonagall went to a Muggle movie with Sir Cadogan.**

Minerva McGonagall hurried along the frozen streets of London during the Christmas break of 2001. Due to a scheduled downtime of the Ministry's floo system for recalibration, everyone was forced to use the visitor's entrance to get into the Ministry.

Pulling her Muggle overcoat closer around her and muttering a warming charm under her breath, she hurried to the red call box that disguised the entrance. Just as she was getting ready to dial the access number, a bright poster plastered on a nearby wall caught her eye and caused her to place the receiver back in its cradle. She stepped out to examine the poster further, a deep curiosity stirring in her breast.

Taking in the somewhat familiar visages of three children and the legend 'Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone,' Minerva nearly had a heart attack! The dark-haired child looked nearly identical to Harry when he had first been sorted nearly ten years earlier! What was going on? Had the Muggles made a movie? How? _Why? _What plot was this she had discovered?

Abandoning her errand, she whipped around and headed back to the Apparition point at the Leaky Cauldron to return to Hogwarts.

Minerva wandered the empty halls of the august school muttering to herself. The portraits could only catch partial phrases of "…violations of the Secrecy Act!" " How did they discover about the stone?" "Who could have done this…?"

She was brought to a halt by a voice from a portrait near her elbow calling to her. "Pray, dear lady, what causes thy spirit such distress? Is there naught this knight can do to assist thee?" Sir Cadogan brandished his sword, causing his armour to rattle ominously and his horse to shy away from him. "Show me the knave and I'll run him through for thy favour!"

Minerva sighed, rolled her eyes, and turned to face the medieval knight-errant. "Someone has leaked the story of Harry Potter's first year here at school, and the Muggles have made a 'movie' of the whole affair!" She scowled off into the distance. "Who could have done this, Sir Cadogan?"

"A Quest!" He jumped up and down with glee. "You must go on a quest to discover the knave who doth threaten our world!" He pointed his sword at the locket pinned to her throat. "Open thy locket and place it against this painting and I shall assist and protect thee, Fair Maiden, on this most noble of missions!"

Minerva snorted at the 'Fair Maiden' line, but did as Sir Cadogan bid and let him jump into her locket.

"Where to now, fair lady?"

"Back to London I think, Sir Cadogan!" Transforming her robes into Muggle clothes once more, she set off to the sound of Sir Cadogan's muffled "Onward!"

After perusing the movie poster again ("Odd, they don't move, my lady. Why do they not move when the Muggles call this a 'movie', was it?") Minerva read that the movie was based on a series of books. "A series? There's more than one? Merlin preserve us!"

"The next step in our quest, dear lady, we must seek out these nefarious publications."

"That is the eternal dilemma, read the books or see the movie first?" she mused. "There is a cinema around the corner, Sir Cadogan; I think we should see that first. Afterwards, we can go to a Muggle bookseller." Decision made, she marched away to the cinema and after passing over some Muggle money, she received a bit of pasteboard and entered the theatre.

Blinking in the bright midwinter sunlight, Minerva could barely hold in her exasperation. The movie had been uncannily accurate, although Sir Cadogan kept making comments such as "Professor Snape never looked that handsome!" "They've got that part of the castle all wrong!" "That does resemble Sir Nick a bit…" "The Fat Lady…" "Have at him, young Master Potter!" At that, Minerva had shut the locket giving it a stern tapping with a hissed suggestion to be quiet. The Muggles who had turned around to stare at her were surprised to see no one else there, but the stern glance she shot at them caused them to whip back around, and hunker down in their seats.

She knew this part of London fairly well and remembered there was a large Muggle bookseller nearby. Throwing her shoulders back, she strode with purpose to Waterstone's bookshop, prepared to search as long as it took to find the incriminating books.

McGonagall was amazed at what she found – a whole section of the children's area was devoted to these Harry Potter books! After a brief discussion with the store clerk, she discovered that children and adults loved the books and recently had waited in line for the fourth instalment to come out. "They're causing children to read and dream, and adults to recapture their youth!" she had said. Minerva bought a set of the four that were published.

"Sir Cadogan," she murmured. "I smell magic at work here … we need to investigate this author. The clerk said she was signing books this afternoon in Edinburgh; let's go."

"But, of course! Forward we go!"

o00o

Minerva McGonagall sat in her rooms at Hogwarts, plaid dressing gown keeping her warm as she toasted her toes before the fire, bun taken down for the evening, nursing a small glass of firewhiskey.

"Ah, Albus," she addressed the empty room, "if only you knew how clever Miss Granger-Weasley truly is! She has taken memory charms to a whole new level." She chuckled to herself. "All those people reading about our world, loving it, and not realising it _is_ real. Very clever Muggle Liaison Device. And the author has no idea – just thinks the story fell from the sky right into her head whilst on a train ride! Amazing!" She sipped some more at the whisky, then opened the book on her lap and began to read:

'Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.…'


	9. Chapter 9

This story was written in response to the Quidditch Pitch/Fiction Alley September/October 2007 fan-fiction challenge, which it won. It was written by a team of writers called BeST; also known for their Betaing prowess. The team is made up of two writers and two grammarians – one American, the other British and PI accredited, who lives in Germany. The Authors are Zarathustra from America and Les Dowich from Australia. We ask that you read and enjoy!

We also wish to acknowledge SwissMiss, who inspired us to write this story with her poem for the same competition.

**Curiosity**

The handsome, dark-haired teen walked through the castle, slinking from shadow to shadow, senses at full alert for late-night teacher and prefect patrols. He was a prefect himself, but he didn't want to make any explanations as to why he was out after curfew. After all, he could not very well tell the enquirer he was about to fulfil his destiny; people just did not understand or share his vision, now did they? How could they?

He gloated to himself, a sneer rising to his lips, as he thought back on his project. He had run across the legend of Slytherin's chamber quite by accident when trying to discover his own roots and origins. He had always known he was special, destined for greater things; discovering he was the Heir to Slytherin had been a natural progression.

Slughorn had been easy enough to manipulate into giving him a pass to the library's Restricted Section so he could trace his lineage through the Gaunts and the Peverells to Salazar himself. A tin of his favourite brand of crystallised pineapple was all it had taken. Weeks of research later, he thought he had found the location of the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. There, he felt, his ideas and dreams would be vindicated for everyone to see.

He finally reached the second-floor corridor and headed towards the girls' toilet. He'd had a good laugh at that when he realized what covered the tunnel these days. It was an ironic laugh; trust Hogwarts to be disrespectful to the greatest wizard of all times in such a way, trying to dull his superiority by causing the ingress to his most marvellous chamber to appear as a girls' convenience.

It was typical of the small-minded, visionless worms that fed on the carcass of giants and produced nothing but mundane carping and doom sayings. Well, now! He was about to claim the greatness back for his forefathers and his line, restoring the glory of the name and extracting a price from those who had slighted him.

Making sure no one was near, he carefully slipped through the doorway and checked to make sure the stalls were empty before casting his eyes around the chamber. His gaze landed upon the central pillar surrounded by sinks. Yes, this was it! It was large enough to conceal the descending shaft. He circled the sinks looking for the sign he knew had to be there, left by previous heirs. He ran his hand along the plumbing, feeling for something different, something special… there! He narrowed his gaze, focusing on the serpent engraved on one of the taps and hissed out the magic word:

"Open…"

o00o

Headgirl Minerva McGonagall had started her patrol this evening with a bit of a challenge; spirits were up and so was mischief-making as the long winter days slowly came to a close and the hint of spring fever began taking over the school's occupants. She had caught several children from the lower forms out past curfew, obviously up to no good! She sniffed to herself in annoyance as she continued her path along the now empty halls. She nodded a greeting as she passed her transfiguration teacher, Professor Dumbledore, and did not notice the twinkle in his eyes as he watched her continue along the corridor.

It was past curfew now; she only had a half-hour left before she needed to return to her room in the Gryffindor tower. She made a few more turns and headed down a rear flight of stairs to the second floor, wrapping her cloak closer around her and casting a warming charm against the late winter chill. This old disused route was the quickest she had found, but the torches were never lit at night. Only the light of the moon, as it reflected off of the remaining patches of snow, gave any sort of illumination through the tall windows at the far end. Ahead of her she could see the well lit main corridor and hurried quickly towards its welcoming light.

A noise behind her caused Minerva to halt her steps. She pulled out her wand and turned back to the darkened hall, fear gripping her throat as she saw a huge serpentine shadow weaving in the moonlight. The sound of scales against granite scraped across her ears, and she knew - she just knew - what was loose in the castle was evil to the core. Grabbing a piece of lint in her pocket she murmured a spell to transfigure it into a mirror far more easily than most witches of her age would. Cautiously, she crept back down the corridor, pressing her shoulders against the wall and muffling her footsteps and scent with two additionally muttered spells so the creature did not feel the vibrations of her walking, nor smell her approach.

She reached the corner. Taking a huge breath, she angled the mirror around it, using the reflection to see if she had been right, praying that the shadow she had seen was just an exaggerated version of a garden snake; yet, knowing in her soul it probably wasn't that simple. The huge, scarlet-crested serpentine head was facing away from her, but there was no mistake, it was a Basilisk – and a full grown one, at that! A gasp caught in her throat. Fear, such as she had never known, coursed through her, nausea gripping her belly. A sudden popping behind her caused Minerva to start, a gasp escaping her lips. Apprehensively, she looked back in the mirror to see if the beast had heard it too, and caught a glimpse of the baleful yellow eyes before everything went black.

o00o

"Miss McGonagall? Minerva! Wake up, child, wake up!"

Minerva mewed a bit as she blinked her eyes against the bright sunlight pouring through the infirmary's clerestory windows. The windows were open to let in fresh air, and she could hear birds singing in the forest. She licked her lips and a chuckle by her head brought her attention to Professor Dumbledore sitting in a chair next to her bed.

"What happened?" she murmured, as she pushed herself upright. The professor fluffed her pillows behind her. Minerva smiled her thanks and sat against them, reaching for the glass of water he handed her.

"What do you remember?" he asked softly, as she composed herself once again.

She thought back. What did she remember? "It was dark, I was patrolling – getting ready to head back to my rooms. I remember… a sound behind me…" Suddenly, she bolted upright and turned to the teacher, realisation clear in her eyes. "A Basilisk sir! There was a Red Crested Basilisk on the second floor!"

"Yes, dear, we know. You've been petrified for several weeks while we waited for the mandrakes to mature. Since then, several other students were also attacked and Myrtle Rogers was killed in the second-floor bathroom. Young Tom Riddle discovered that it was Hagrid who had released the beast. The board of governors has expelled him and snapped his wand. Once Hagrid was expelled, the beast seemingly escaped the school, perhaps into the Forbidden Forest." Dumbledore stood up and pulled the curtains closed around the bed, waving his wand to set up a silencing spell, before reseating himself.

Minerva didn't pay much attention to his movements; she was too stunned to register what he was doing. Several weeks? Myrtle dead? Hagrid expelled? Hagrid? How was that possible, he was such an earnest, simple soul! It did not ring true. How had the beast left the grounds when the wards … it took her a moment to realise Professor Dumbledore was talking to her again.

"… remember what happened to startle the beast?"

She shook her head dazedly. "I'm sorry Professor, what did you ask?"

"Do you remember what startled the beast?" This time she caught the amusement in his voice. The twinkle in his eyes was brighter than ever, but she ignored him.

Her thoughts flew back to the darkened corridor. "Yes, sir, I do; I was startled by a popping noise and I made a small gasp. I thought someone was Apparating behind me but logically that was not possible as Hogwarts will not allow Apparition, will it?" she rambled. "I assume that same sound was what made it to turn around. I never did see what caused the disturbance – everything happened so quickly!"

"I'm sure it did." The older man reached into a pocket in his robes and pulled out a box of hard sweets. He popped one in his mouth and offered the open package to her. "Lemon drop?"

She shook her head, no. Now, if it had been shortbread …

Dumbledore put the sweets away, and waved his wand again, murmuring 'Finite Incantatem'. He looked down at her, knowingly. "Now, dear girl, perhaps you'd like to tell me about that tail you have?" He looked pointedly at the region of bed near her hip.

"Tail? What tail?" she asked indignantly, but followed his gaze to see a long tabby-striped tail twitching beside her, that hadn't been there a moment before. She squeaked, and the hairs on the tail puffed out in agitation as she tried to move away from it, but the offending member continued to follow her. "Professor… what happened?" She seemed to be asking that a lot today.

Dumbledore relaxed back into his chair, settling his hands comfortably in his lap, looking so much like a satisfied and proud grandfather. "I do believe, my dear, you are capable of becoming an Animagus. Congratulations!"

Minerva blinked, then blinked again, a what? She hadn't realised she had spoken aloud until Professor Dumbledore smiled, leaning forward eagerly.

"An Animagus form is one of the hardest transformations to accomplish as it involves the witch and wizard actually using their magic upon themselves to transform their bodies into their animal forms. The majority of folk do not have the concentration, or strength of character, to complete the training, which can take many years. Many give up without even finding their true animal forms; others give up when they discover that even a partial transformation takes as much energy as… as a trans-world Apparition does, every time they need to transform."

"It never gets any easier?" Minerva interjected curiously, making her professor blink as if he had forgotten she was there.

"I… don't know. Alas, I have only theoretical knowledge of the subject, not practical. My talents lie in other areas. However, I do know where the best books and scrolls on the subject can be found. If you feel you might like to investigate the matter, I can arrange a pass to the Restricted Section, and perhaps authorisation to the Central Wizarding Library at the Ministry." Dumbledore smiled gently as the girl's face lit up with avid interest.

"Times are changing, my dear, and I feel the first stirrings of a great evil that will sweep the land and cause massive distress to all of the wizarding world. People of talent should make the most of their gifts and be prepared to step up and support the Light in the face of the coming Darkness. This is not an opportunity I would offer to many students but you, Minerva, show true promise. You come from a proud and glorious Line, the McGonagalls of Scotland. I feel the greatness of your ancestors lies within you, if you would dare to grasp it."

Minerva basked in the light of his praise and nodded slowly. She was talented at Transfiguration, aye, and a powerful witch in her own right! Wouldn't it be something to be able to turn into an animal at will? She knew her genealogy enough that she was aware there had been Animagi among her forebears; maybe she was likewise talented? Perhaps she would just take a quick glance through the available material, see if she thought it was a real possibility or merely just a pipedream. After all, there were a few books in the family library, too, written by her ancestors that might prove very useful to her.

Dumbledore's smile never lost its paternalistic edge as the girl stated her willingness to make the attempt but inside he felt something expand in satisfaction. Having an Animagus on his side would be a very, very useful thing indeed.

o00o

"All right then, Miss McGonagall, are you ready?"

"Yes, sir, I am," she said with confidence. She had studied relentlessly and practiced until she was exhausted. All the books, exercises and mental disciplines that her professor had set her in order to accomplish the transformation, were completed. She was excited and nervous, but she felt she could do this! Dumbledore needed her to achieve this, if she was to help him.

Professor Dumbledore had cleared the transfiguration room, sealing the door against intrusion and sound. He transfigured one of the student benches into a comfortable chintz-covered chair and sat down in it facing his protégé.

Minerva closed her eyes as she stood in the middle of the cleared space, reaching deep within her for the centre of her magic. As she grasped her core, she placed the image she had learned was her cat-form firmly in her mind, seeing all aspects of the animal: fur, teeth, eyes, ears, markings, size … and concentrated melding into that form, being the tabby cat, feeling cat-like urges. She grinned in self-satisfaction as she felt her limbs and body contort and change; felt the whoosh of air as she became more compact and nearer to the floor.

The sound of clapping startled her, distracting her concentration. Narrowing her eyes, she shot a look in the direction of her teacher, a hiss escaping her lips. She reared back in amazement at the sound and tripped over her hind feet, trying to gain her balance. A chuckle from above her made her turn. Hissing again at the man as she regained her feet, she began to pad away, head held high whilst prancing on her hind feet, tail in the air … she was sure she could feel it twitching behind her, but something was not quite right. Her hind legs were not operating correctly! What was wrong? She staggered a bit as she attempted to turn around and check out her legs to make sure they were correct.

The man was laughing outright! She glared at him again.

"Your tail, Minerva, you forgot your tail!" he gasped out.

She whipped her head around as her ears flew forward in surprise, but the move unsteadied her further. She fell into a twisted lump on her bum. Ignoring her chortling teacher, she lifted a leg and looked at her backside. Sure enough, no tail! She untangled herself with as much dignity as she could muster. Sitting primly in her spot, she determinedly looked past her teacher at the wall behind him, closed her eyes and concentrated on her tail. A familiar popping soon was heard – just like in the corridor all those years ago. She opened her eyes, stood up and sniffed once in her mentor's direction.

With nose and tail high in the air, in thorough disdain of the annoying man who was now laughing so hard that tears were flowing down his cheeks, she walked over to the side of the room with a window, and hopped up lightly onto the ledge. Perching upon a nice bright, warm, sunny spot, she turned her back on the room and began to wash herself in the sunlight, purring contentedly.

Finis


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Written for the 2008 Spellcast Hallowe'en challenge. Les took lead on this one. Happy Hallowe'en!

**The Legend of Sleepy… Hogwarts?  
**

_"… the night was dark; there was no moon. Mist swirled through the trees and muffled the horse's hoof-beats. Clip… clop… clip… clop…"_

A delicious shiver ran through the group of first-years as they listened to Harry Potter tell the old story, his face under-lit by a _ Lumos_ spell, the darkness of the dorm lending a spooky air to the Hallowe'en night. Harry fought down a smile as he had the unfortunate Ichabod Crane approach the covered bridge over the deep, fierce river. He hated Hallowe'en these days and had refused to go to the Ball the Headmistress had organised for the third- through seventh-years. Instead, he chose to tell stories to the firsties; babysitting, as Ron so disdainfully pointed out.

_"As the sturdy mare's hooves hit the wooden bridge, the noise of her passing began to sound like a drum. CLIP… CLOP… CLIP… CLOP-CLOP… CLIP-CLIP… CLOP-CLOP. Ichabod stiffened and urged the mare a little faster. CLIP-CLIP CLOP-CLOP CLI-LIP CLO-LOP."_

Suzie Tyler let out a squeal of delicious terror then a shriek as Harry's words were drowned out by the sound of real horse hooves on a wooden bridge. Screams and squeals erupting from the group of firsties made Harry leap to his feet and turn, his wand held defensively before him. Gone was the wall of the dormitory; instead, a bleached forest of skeletal trees, hip deep in fog, loomed away in the darkness. Their small group was sitting in a clearing beside the road. In the distance, barely illuminated by the starlight, was a large, covered bridge. Greenish sickly light shone from inside the structure, making Harry's stomach roil at the thought of what might come out.

Motioning the children behind him, he chanced a glance over his shoulder and almost cried out in relief. Not fifteen feet away was the soft glow of a fire, the familiar shapes of four-posters and a door that would lead them to safety.

"Gylanthis, Suzie! Grab everyones' hands and start backing off toward the door. Don't run, just walk quickly. When you get there, go out the door and head down to the common room. Then, run like hell and find a teacher, anyone will do; they're probably all at the dance in the Great Hall. Ready? Go!"

There was a frightened scamper of feet on the dirt road as Harry turned back toward the bridge and cast I_ Protego_/I behind himself in an effort to shield the children. Whatever was inside the bridge was taking its own sweet time emerging onto the road. Suddenly, with a burst of speed, a horse and rider exploded from the bridge, the huge black horse's eyes flaring red; green light spilling from a jack-o-lantern held above the rider's neck, high-lighting his distinct lack of head. Harry knew he let out a yelp, which startled the children. They screamed loudly and, as one body, turned and bolted, scrambling wildly toward the door in the dormitory wall. Harry collected his wits and threw a I_ Petrificus Totalis_/I at the rider to no effect, the apparition simply screeched with maniacal laughter as the horse reared and plunged forward again, steam pouring from its nostrils.

Harry tried Stunners, Tanglers and finally an ice spell, all to no avail. He was working his way up to an I_ Avada Kedavra_/I when the horse was upon him, its solid bulk stinking of sweat. An equally solid shoulder slammed Harry aside, spinning him off the path into the dirt as the horseman cantered past. As Harry's head slammed on the ground, he saw stars for a moment but managed to scramble to his knees, horror coursing through him as the horseman continued on his way, ducking through the doorway the children had left open.

The children!

oo0oo

Ron tugged Hermione into an alcove behind a suit of armour, stealing a kiss despite her half-hearted protests of duty. She softened and melted, curling an arm around his neck as he gently pressed her against the wall. The stone was cold and Hermione yipped a little, making them both giggle. The Ball was in full swing in the Great Hall, but, as prefects, it was part of their duties to make sure the younger years were in their beds at a reasonable hour. Since Harry was with the children, they were pretty sure nothing bad would happen, but still, it was necessary to check. Besides, they both wanted to see how Harry was holding up, although they would never actually say so. It was, after all, a very bad day for their best friend: the sixteenth anniversary of his parents' murder.

With Ron's arm draped over her shoulders, Hermione gently guided the redhead toward the portrait of the Fat Lady, both seventh-years surprised to find her hiding behind the rock in her portrait, shaking like jelly and warning them not to go in there. Startled, they straightened and fingered their wands whilst Ron gave the password: 'King Tut'. As the portrait swung open, a wave of screaming, crying first-years tumbled out, fog swirling around them as they knocked the two older students aside and scrambled off down the corridor.

Pulling his wand, Ron surged through the hole, Hermione hot on his heels, her wand almost jabbing her boyfriend in the back as she straightened at his side. Fog rolled heavily down the far stairs, the sound of frogs croaking and trees rustling, giving the common room an air of unreality. It was the shrieking that set them both on the defensive -- maniacal laughter and the unmistakable pitch of Harry yelling spells in the midst of the flicker of hex-light from above. Ron bellowed, charged forward, only to be spun on the spot by a huge, red-eyed stallion that leapt into view on the stairs. Its hindquarters bunched as it sailed over Hermione's head and through the wall, leaving them both open-mouthed. There was another series of bangs and thumps as Harry tumbled down the stairs, his broom held tightly in his hand.

"Come on, you two! The Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow just got loose in the school! We have to stop him!"

Ron let out a whoop as Harry barged through the portrait hole, threw a leg over his trusty Firebolt and kicked off in a flurry of fog.

oo0oo

Severus Snape hated _parties_! He hated the concept, their execution and absolutely despised having to attend them. Yet, here he was, once again, attending a Ball that Minerva insisted upon 'for the students'. He was certain that the interfering old portrait in her office had something to do with this – this – _fete_! He'd rather be where he usually spent most Hallowe'ens since 1981: drunk, in his quarters.

Instead, he was standing in a dark corner, watching the students enjoying themselves as he fingered the wand in his sleeve. He had to admit, Filius and Hagrid had outdone themselves this year; the humongous pumpkins hanging from the ceiling lent a holiday atmosphere to the place, along with the cobwebs blowing in the breeze, the students dressed up in costumes and the enormous spread of party food on the tables along the wall. Even the screaming first-years invading the room added a thrill to the air… Hang on – screaming first-years?

His wand in hand, he pushed his way through the confused crowds gathering around the group of first-year Gryffindors. The little girls were crying, and the boys were babbling about a man riding a horse through their dorm. He scoffed to himself; just foolish children telling ghost stories and scaring themselves silly. He left the group to the mothering influence of their headmistress and was just about to sheath his wand when screaming erupted behind him again!

He whirled to see the students scattering in front of a headless figure atop an irate black stallion, holding a green glowing jack-o-lantern high in its hand as it galloped around the room. Flying in hot pursuit came…

"POTTER! WHAT IN BLAZES IS GOING ON!!!" he yelled over the cacophony as the teen flew past with Weasley right behind him.

"No time, Professor – I've got to figure out how to get rid of him! None of our spells are working… _IMPEDIMENTA!!"_ the youth screamed, but the spell just blew right through the figure as it let out a truly evil laugh and tossed its pumpkin head at the Brat-Who-Lived. He missed Harry, but the head smacked upside down atop Flitwick, who began staggering around, unable to see.

Severus groaned, as he rescued the diminutive professor and began strolling over to where he had seen Nick and the Baron. He ducked more flying pumpkins with aplomb as the horseman discovered the myriad of floating heads in the hall and began tossing them at his pursuers, and everyone else who caught his fancy. Minerva and the other teachers herded the students out the doors, as Hagrid attempted to catch the psychotic poltergeist who smashed all of Hagrid's hard work over the walls and floors.

"Can't you two do anything about this?" Snape enquired as he reached the ghosts' location.

"Perhaps," Nick hedged. "Mayhap' only a ghost can truly rid us of this bounder. We will do our utmost." Nick drew his spectral blade with a flourish, the Baron pulled out his own long sword, and both floated quickly toward the centre of the conflict where Granger had joined Weasley and Potter, attempting to banish the mad horseman.

The Baron gave a truly hair-raising battlecry as he charged at the headless ghost, engaging it in combat. He seemed to be having an effect, where the Gryffindors' spells had not, drawing ichor from where his blade made contact. Nearly Headless Nick showed why he was a Gryffindor as he fearlessly waded in, cutting at the horse's hocks while the Baron engaged the rider.

The horse gave an almighty scream, rearing on its hind legs, as Nick pierced its throat. The horse blew apart, as it screeched its last breath, dumping the rider on the slick, pumpkin-smeared floor. The tall, dark ghost grabbed a surviving pumpkin head, plopped it on top of its neck-stump and turned to face the two swordsmen, eyeholes glowing green.

Severus had forced the seventh-years into a corner where they all watched the three-way duel. It took a few moments, but the battle soon came to its inevitable end. As the Horseman attempted to decapitate Nick, who cleverly let his head flop to one side, the Horseman's blade swished through the suddenly empty space, only to catch on the remaining piece of sinew on Nick's neck, severing it with a twang. The Baron took the opening provided and skewered the spectre on his sword, causing it to explode in a spectacular fashion, spattering the remaining onlookers with dripping ectoplasm.

Severus and the teens cautiously emerged from their corner to find the Baron handing Nick his head, and the be-ruffled ghost laughing uproariously as he bowed to the little group.

"Harry Potter! Look, I can finally join the Headless Hunt! Thank you! I go forthwith to write to Sir Patrick!" he announced, still chortling as he drifted through the nearest wall. The Baron bowed to Snape before he floated off as well.

Severus turned to the Trio, raising an eyebrow in question.

"I -- I don't know what happened, sir…" the brat stammered. "I was telling the story when it came to life!" he explained. "That's never happened before! I swear!"

Snape pinched his nose in exasperation. "Accidental Magic, Potter, from a first-year. Now, clean this mess up, you three – I'm going to go get quietly drunk, and when I come back here in the morning, I expect it to be sparkling!" The three winced at the venom in Snape's voice, but nodded their heads and began drawing their wands. "WITHOUT MAGIC!" he yelled, as he banged through the Great Doors. Merlin, he hated I_parties_! /IEspecially the aftermath.

End


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: The Leaky Cauldron web site had issued a challenge over the winter of 2009 to pose an unanswered question in the series and write a short story around it, answering it to the author's satisfaction. In 2005, roughly 1 week after reading HBP, I came up with this theory. It made perfect sense to me. I researched it thoroughly and posted it in 2006 as a Scribbulus paper. It is also posted under my name in Fiction Alley. You can search in either place to read the paper "The Werewolf Only Responds To the Call of Its Own Kind". Please note: To date, JKR has yet to disprove this theory. This was my offering and I am pleased to report it was chosen as one of the top three.**

**Fenrir's Mark **

"Well, Draco?" said Lucius Malfoy. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"1

Staying well away from Greyback, and barely looking at Potter, Draco gave a non-answer. Even when his father insisted he come closer, he refused to answer in the affirmative. So far he had avoided obtaining the final stain on his soul – he wasn't going to give in now. And it all came down to Werewolves.

Draco didn't know when he had begun to fear the creatures of the full moon; he remembered being frightened even as a young child. So, he had been justifiably frightened down to the hand-sewn soles of his polished boots when he'd been assigned detention in the forest with the Gamekeeper his first year.

He had even known the minute he had seen the teacher in the car on the Express before third year, what he was; it was obvious to someone with as healthy a fear of the creatures as Draco possessed.

Draco's greatest fear was being bitten.

Draco's second greatest fear? Getting the Dark Mark burned into his forearm.

He had managed to avoid both so far, but barely.

During the summer after his fifth year, after Potter and his Dumbledore's army had managed to get his father thrown into Azkaban, Voldemort had seen fit to punish Draco and his mother.

_ "So, the father has failed once again," the Dark Lord had stated while circling around Draco as he regained his knees in the centre of the circle of the remaining Death Eaters. Draco could see his mother standing stoically to the side, with his aunt's wand pointed at her neck – ensuring her silence. "I believe that I will see what this scion of the Malfoy clan is willing to do for me in order to redeem the family name." Draco paled visibly, but made no move to reveal his nervousness._

_Voldemort walked around him several more times without saying anything before finally coming to a halt in front of the teen. "I am going to require several things from you, Malfoy, in order to test your loyalty. You will not receive the Dark Mark until you fulfil all of these requirements to __my __satisfaction. Do you understand?" _

_Draco nodded his head as he responded with "Yes, my lord."_

_"Good," the man all but purred. "I'm so glad we are in agreement, this should make things much easier." He released the rest of the room at that point, except for Draco's mother, his aunt, and Greyback who stood behind the Dark Lord's chair. Bellatrix had relaxed a bit, but her wand was still ready in her hand and she watched Voldemort with utter devotion in her eyes. _

_"I require the use of your manor, Malfoy, for the duration of my campaign against Potter." He ignored Bellatrix's sycophantic 'What's ours is yours, my lord'. _

_"And I require a service from you," he continued. "In order to prove your loyalty and your commitment to becoming a Death Eater, you are being given the task of killing Dumbledore." _

_Draco saw his mother twitch out of the corner of his eye, and heard the excited intake of air from his aunt. He kept his head down, barely acknowledging his understanding of the assignment. _

_"And to remind you of your task, I am going to let Fenrir mark you..." Voldemort chuckled as he saw Draco flinch violently as Greyback came forward, saliva actually dripping from his fangs as he approached the boy. "Hold out your left arm, young Malfoy," Voldemort commanded. Draco slowly held out his trembling arm, shoving the sleeve up his arm to bare his skin. Greyback leaped forward and dragged several nails deeply over his forearm, forever marking him. Draco screamed as the skin tore and minute amounts of non-lethal venom entered his bloodstream. He convulsively clutched at his arm, as the blood dripped to the pristine floor._

_"Let that be a warning to you, boy; much worse is what awaits your mother if you disappoint me."_

___And he had disappointed his lord, but somehow the promised retribution had never materialised – perhaps because Dumbledore had died anyways, or Snape had intervened on his behalf; he never knew. He did know that he still did not have a Dark Mark, and he intended to keep it that way. So, he was careful – perhaps if Potter realised that Draco was reluctant to verify his identity, he would remember that in the end and not feed Draco to the proverbial wolves. _

_"_I don't know," he told his father___._2

1 JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, pg 458 Scholastic Hardback Edition, 2007

2 Ibid; pg 459


End file.
